A River in Memory

I liken you to a river,
to a cliché,
to the smoothness
of the jazz CD
playing on my computer.
The soft notes
slip out of speakers
and roll along my desktop,
before casually
falling to the floor;
a miniature waterfall.
Waterfall.
Remember the waterfall
on Barker's brook,
right near the wood bridge
behind your parent's house?
We were kids,
maybe seven or eight
years old...
definitely preteen
when we explored
and discovered
things that were
already there,
dreams.
Dreams.
Thank you
for leaving memories
and music,
like a babbling brook.
Like a river...